


A Change Is Gonna Come

by victorine



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alana Finds Out, Antler Play, Cannibalism, Dubious Consent, Kissing, M/M, Mating, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Poor Alana, S2: canon divergence, SPOILER: character death is not Will or Hannibal, Supernatural Elements, Transformation, Wendigo Hannibal, Wendigo Will Graham, Wendigos, but more for transforming into a seven-foot antlered beastie than for sex, in any other fandom that tag would make no sense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6418045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/pseuds/victorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal has been working on Will's becoming for a long time. He just didn't mean for it to happen during dinner with Alana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blackened and Burned

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was meant to be part of my ongoing 'Alana Finds Out' series but I felt this one had legs (and maybe hooves). So I've separated it and there'll be more to come (haven't figured how much yet). Enjoy!

This dinner was never going to have been pleasant, regardless of Hannibal's wishes. Alana still had grave misgivings about Will and his intentions towards Hannibal. She knew her lover was capable of great patience and forgiveness with those he cared about but she couldn't find it in herself to so easily forgive Will’s actions.

_How do you reforge a friendship with someone who actively tried to bring about your death?_

Nor did she trust Will’s assurances that he had been mistaken, driven to desperate measures by fear and hopelessness. It was probably inevitable, therefore, that the conversation had shifted inexorably towards Will and Hannibal’s strange connection. Driven by Freddie Lounds’ insinuations over the two men’s relationship, Alana had allowed toxic curiosity to get the best of her.

Unfortunately, she found herself losing.

“It's just hard to know where you are with each other.”

“We know where we are with each other,” Will offered, blandly. “Shouldn't that be enough?”

_Not for me._ She hated this detached, dispassionate version of Will. She hated how Hannibal looked upon him with pride.

_Desire_ , a voice in her head whispered. _Between whom?_ she whispered back.

“Better the devil you know,” Hannibal smiled, a trace of demon in his own voice as he took another mouthful.

Alana was ready to scream. Or leave. Or punch both of them. They were closing her out, cementing their togetherness and she wasn't sure who she should be trying to save from the encroaching walls, if only herself.

Then she glanced across the table, towards Will’s plate.

“Will, what is…” Alana gaped at his hands in horror, “what is _happening_ to you?”

She watched, uncomprehending, as black seemed to flow from Will's fingers up his arms, skin darkening and turning to gloss, like onyx. Meeting his gaze she saw the same blackness creep from beneath his collar, towards his face, as the pupils of his own panic-filled eyes swelled and spread to fill them with a crimson void.

Alana half-stood from her chair, unsure whether to reach out to her friend or draw back in terror. “Hannibal,” she pleaded, “we have to help him, what do we…” she tore her eyes from the shifting… _thing_ in front of her to look desperately to Hannibal.

What she saw was of no comfort.

Hannibal was watching Will, with no sign of fear or concern. Instead, Alana saw only satisfaction and wonder – _reverence_ – on her lover’s face as his mouth turned up in a smile, cruel and delighted.

Will was panting, clutching at the table and clearly in pain. “What is… happening… to me?” he gasped.

“Hannibal?” Alana begged, trying to see the man she knew within the mask of wicked pleasure he now wore. “What is this?” She knew, beyond any doubt, that Hannibal was in control here. “What have you done?”

Will's head whipped towards Hannibal when she said this. “You?” he began and then screamed. His hands flew to his head and he clutched at it in anguish. Alana saw then that his fingers had grown elongated, tipped with vicious-looking claws.

Still watching him intently, Hannibal took a sip of wine. “You are, as ever, my dear Will, proving impossible to predict. This is rather ahead of schedule but you are, shall we say, _becoming_.” He raised his glass as if in celebration, took another drink, then placed it neatly on the table.

“This is insane. Hannibal, whatever this is, we have to help him. He's in agony.” Alana could barely stand the noises Will was making.

“A little pain is often necessary, Alana, in order to make progress in life. And it will fade soon enough. After…” Hannibal extended a hand towards Will and Alana stared, fixated, as black antlers burst from Will’s skull, extending towards the ceiling. He seemed to grow with them, becoming much taller than he had been.

Alana didn't scream. She couldn't. She looked from Will to Hannibal, begging wordlessly for _understanding_.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any for an explanation,” Hannibal mused. He sounded almost giddy. “Have either of you ever heard the myth of the Wendigo?”

Alana was close to shaking the man in frustration but it was Will who answered, his words coming in short bursts. “They were cannibals… humans who… ate human flesh and became… creatures. Became… beasts.” He turned his head towards Hannibal, its crown of antlers now fully grown, twisted and beautiful. “You've been feeding us…”

Alana looked down at her plate and felt her stomach roil. “No, that's not possible, that's not…”

“Quite possible, Alana,” Hannibal told her, with what could easily pass as a pleasant smile, “and quite true. I enjoy broadening my friends’ palates.”

“Why is this happening to _me_?” Will spat. His breathing seemed to be coming easier, now. “You've known her longer, been _feeding_ her longer. But she's not…”

“Ah, a very interesting question, Will, thank you.” Alana might have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. _Except, I'm not the insane one here._ “In fact, not everyone has the potential to become a Wendigo. I am unsure as to whether it is a matter of biology or psychology. Perhaps both. I only knew, from the moment I met you, Will, that you had such potential, in this as in everything. Our lovely Alana, exceptional as she is, does not.”

“Pretty certain I'll cope with the disappointment,” Alana spat at him, incredulous.

Hannibal only smiled.

“Oh god, Hannibal,” Will's voice left him in a moan, “Hannibal, I feel…”

“Yes, William? What do you feel?”

“I want… I need…” Desperation edged Will's voice.

“I know, beloved, I know.” Hannibal opened an arm towards Will. “Come.”

Alana never felt the urge to rubberneck. She'd been at enough crime scenes to lose the fascination with carnage. It was a similar horrifying fascination that held her now, though, watching as Will moved towards Hannibal as though the older man was reeling him in, coming to sit on his lap. She felt her breath hitch as Will leaned in, scenting Hannibal’s neck and then beginning to press frenzied, deep and wet kisses along his throat, towards his jaw, grinding himself down against Hannibal’s thigh.

It was blatant, desperate, animalistic claiming.

Hannibal had been watching Alana throughout all of this, a hand petting Will’s curls, another against his hip and a smirk marring the face for which she had held such fondness. She knew she should flee, that her best chance was while they were entwined, but the question left her mouth without her control. “What happens now?”

“For Will, I believe a combination of his transformation and the proximity of his mate have served to bring him into heat. He will need to be… taken care of.” A truly _evil_ smile accompanied these words.

“His _mate_?” Alana asked, her voice flat and disgusted.

“Why yes, Alana. Will is mine, as I am his. Our connection has always been a profound one.” Hannibal reached a hand towards Will’s antlers and ran a finger along one of the tines, causing Will to shudder and moan.

“ _More_ ,” he pleaded.

“In good time, my love,” Hannibal promised.

“And me?” Alana asked him, forcing her voice to keep steady.

“Alana, my dear friend, I was quite truthful in saying that Will is rather ahead of schedule. Had I known his change was so close, I would not have allowed you anywhere near us. Sadly, though, I cannot have you running off to Uncle Jack with our happy news.”

_Not that Jack would ever believe_ this.

As he spoke, Hannibal's own form began to change, blackness mirroring Will's, antlers pushing proudly towards the sky.

“And, moreover, once Will and I are bonded, he is going to be in need of something fresh to eat.”

Alana ran.

She headed for the front door, silent on bare feet, her heels kicked off under the table.

_Get out into the street, out where people can hear, get to a house with lights on._

She ran, pushing every muscle in her body. But Hannibal was in front of her, borne by speed nothing human could possess. She skidded to a halt, knowing in her gut that it had been over from the moment Will had begun to change.

Hannibal looked down at her, taller even in this form, with an expression that spoke almost of regret. “I am sorry, Alana. Truly. I would have preferred to spare you this.”

“But you won't.”

“No.” His tone was gentle but resolute.

“He will hate you for this,” she told him.

“He will forgive. He will… adapt.” Then, moving faster than she could register, Hannibal shoved her back into Will’s waiting arms.

She had spun as she'd fallen, so that she could gaze up at the thing Will had become, its blackened limbs tight around her. She thought she still saw something of her friend in the confused, lost look he gave her.

“Will, just… please, remember who you are.” She felt tears in her eyes. She didn't expect it to save her but she hoped something inside him would hear the words and remember them… after.

“I know who I am.” Will's soft, kind voice, sounding strange coming from the monster that held her.

She wouldn't let herself hope.

Then Will’s smile turned vicious and his eyes searched out Hannibal's.

“I am his.”


	2. What You Take, You Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's in heat. Hannibal explains a few things while taking care of him.

Sunlight split Hannibal's eyes open. He turned on his side, away from the cruel glare and smiled at the sight of the other body in his bed. Will had regained his human form. It signified the end of his heat and the beginning of a far less pleasant period of their relationship. Hannibal felt a twinge of foreboding but crushed it with ease. He and Will were bonded; there would be a period of painful adjustment, perhaps of separation, but Will would return to him, ultimately. Still, the last few days had been joyous, Will content with the barest of information and the feel of Hannibal inside him. Hannibal relished the challenge ahead but he would miss the ease of their heat-driven connection.

***

_Three days earlier._

“Will?”

Red eyes caught onto Hannibal’s, their colour matched by the blood that covered Will’s mouth and flowed lazily from Alana’s ruined throat. Will growled.

“Soon, love, you may consume her. You've had enough for now.” Will clutched the body tighter and licked a lazy stripe along the open wound. A challenge.

“Come here, Will.” Hannibal spoke low and promising. “I have what you need.”

“You've always thought so,” Will drawled. He dropped the body and stepped over it, stalking towards Hannibal, baring his teeth in a smile. “Time to prove doctor really does know best.” He stood in front of Hannibal, eyes lit with expectation.

Hannibal smiled, allowing his eyes to rove Will’s transformed body. Black skin peeked through the seams of his ruined clothes, which had split as he'd grown. His breaths were deep but steady, lips parted, still shining red with blood. Hannibal took a moment to carefully frame the memory, then extended both his gaze and a hand towards Will’s antlers, stroking along the tines as before.

Will hummed with pleasure and pressed himself into Hannibal, hips thrusting involuntarily. “That feels so… Is it like this for you?”

Will reached upwards but Hannibal grabbed his wrist before he could touch and growled. Unfazed, Will smirked and extended a clawed finger until it barely grazed Hannibal’s lowest tine, eliciting a keening moan. In response, Hannibal claimed Will’s mouth in a kiss, feeling the younger man open against him, becoming pliant and yearning.

“Take me, Hannibal,” Will breathed, barely a space between their mouths. “You made me, you claimed me. Time to make good.”

“Upstairs, then.”

“Here.” Will bit lightly into Hannibal's neck, instincts guiding him.

“No.” Hannibal would not bond with Will on a cold, hard floor, the body of their friend laying feet away. He would not tarnish this moment. “You will come with me.”

Will pulled back, just far enough to take in Hannibal's full expression. “Where else would I go?”

They were upstairs as fast as Will’s uncertainty of his new physique and a shared reluctance to break contact would allow. They ripped ruined clothing as they went, arriving in the bedroom entirely naked, taking a moment to examine the sight of each other's changed forms.

“I shouldn't find you attractive like this,” Will breathed, running a hand down Hannibal's chest. “Why do I find you so fucking attractive like this?”

“You did not find me attractive before?”

Will grinned. “You're a good looking man, Doctor Lecter. Just wasn't ever looking. Been straight my whole life. Also human.”

“So you think you will not want me in my less exotic form?”

“You're always exotic, Hannibal.” At this, Will stepped close into the other man and kissed at his throat. “And at this point, I think I'd be drawn to you if you were two feet tall and turned green. I just didn't know that red eyes and antlers would be what really did it for me.”

Hannibal smiled, kissed him and crowded him backwards until they fell onto the bed. Will pulled himself up and backwards, watching expectantly as Hannibal crawled up his body. They kissed again, then Hannibal felt Will tense beneath him. He pulled back to see Will remove his hand from beneath himself, his expression suddenly shocked. “Hannibal, I'm… I'm wet.”

Hannibal beamed, delighted at the innocent confusion. It reminded him of the Will Graham of old. “So you are, dear Will.”

“Is this… normal?”

“It is to be expected and exactly as I hoped.”

“Hoped?”

“Your body has been remade so that we may join as one. Our proximity during the process of your transformation has ensured that your body will open to me.”

“Does that make me the girl?”

Hannibal smirked and leaned down to kiss Will. “Nothing so simple. You are my mate, your body knew even before its change that we are…”

“Conjoined?”

“Entwined.”

“So you say. Haven't made good on it yet, though.” The smirk had returned to Will’s face.

Hannibal decided the conversation about exactly what Will’s new body was capable of – pregnancy was a distinct possibility – should wait until they were less distracted. It wouldn't happen now, Will's heat was a response to his transformation, his hormones too unbalanced to allow for successful breeding. Instead, Hannibal traced a finger down his own neck, pausing where it joined his left shoulder.

“You wanted to bite me here, did you not?”

Will licked his lips and nodded. “I felt… compelled.”

Hannibal moved his hand from his neck to the same spot on Will's. “You experienced the urge to bond yourself to me. A bite from you in this place, the same from me in response, will mark us as belonging to each other. We will experience heightened awareness of each other's presence, pain when separated for too long. Our cycles will sync,”

“Cycles?”

“Mmm. The need you feel just now? It is merely an echo of a true heat. Twice a year, you will enter a state of desire so overwhelming, you will lose the ability to think. When we are bonded, you will ache only for me and I will be driven to protect and service only you.”

“Service? Romantic stuff, doctor.”

Hannibal grazed the inside of Will’s thighs, drawing a shuddering sigh. “You would prefer the term ‘make love’?”

“‘Rut like bunnies’ lacks a certain poetry. So, this is the Wendigo version of marriage?”

“Far more profound and complex. It is a commitment, at the most basic biological level. And Wendigos do, indeed, mate for life.”

“I'll feel differently about this, after this… heat has lifted, won't I?”

“The fact that you are lucid enough to have this conversation suggests that you are largely in control of your faculties. Your decision making, your feelings are being influenced by your body, not overwhelmed by it as they would be in a full heat.”

Will writhed beneath him. “Could've fooled me.”

“But yes, once your desire has been sated, I believe it will take some time for you to accept this. And me.”

“Bonding seems like a really stupid idea, then,” Will said, immediately contradicting the sentiment by leaning up and sucking at Hannibal's bonding spot.

Hannibal moaned and forced himself to maintain rational thought. “Your body has already decided, Will. It knows I am your best chance at survival, for success, for love.” He ran a hand down Will’s spine. “And I do love you, my Will.”

Will pulled back to look at him. “I can't deal with that yet, Hannibal.”

“I would not expect you to. Trust your body, Will, it knows what you need.”

“As you do?”

“More so, even than I.”

Will tilted his head, stroked his thumb along Hannibal's cheekbone, held his lover’s face in both hands. “Alright. But you're going to have to give me this piece of you, Hannibal. Your need for me has to shine through. Has to be inescapable.”

“I do not believe I can hide from you Will, anymore. In this or anything.”

“Just resist the urge to try. And answer one more question.”

“Just one, my love?”

“For now.” Will looked up from beneath his lashes and quirked an eyebrow. “Are you ever going to fuck me?”

***

It had been, in the end, Will who had bitten first, sinking himself deep into Hannibal's flesh with a triumphant growl. Hannibal had responded with his own bite, accompanied by an overwhelming orgasm, causing him to knot Will deep. The younger man had not been best pleased to find himself inextricably joined to his mate for twenty minutes, though he quickly recovered, stipulating that if this was going to be a regular occurrence, he was going to require a book be kept within easy reach. Hannibal had responded by kissing him until boredom became a foreign concept.

Now Hannibal watched in uneasy anticipation as Will surfaced from sleep, blue eyes meeting his own without hesitation. Will, it seemed, needed no time to reacclimatise to his situation.

“Hannibal?” he asked, his voice no longer breathless with need but strained and weary.

“Yes, dear Will?” Hannibal, mindful of Will’s advice, did not allow his mask to settle in place. He watched his mate read _joy, pride, love, mine_ in his gaze.

“What happens now?”


	3. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The honeymoon's over. Hannibal has some (more) explaining to do.

“Now, I believe some coffee is in order.”

Will blinked at Hannibal, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You're not going to try to cook me breakfast?” he asked warily.

Hannibal sighed and looked a little sad. “I do not believe you would find the offer in good taste.” Will realised with a jolt that _a little sad_ on Hannibal was the equivalent of uncontrollable tears on another person and bit back the retort he had been readying. Whatever was going to happen that day, Will had already decided that screaming in anger – the Jack Crawford approach – would do neither of them any good. He wasn't sure whether the future held anything beyond a swift demise for either of them but he needed information in order to decide. And Hannibal was the most likely source, so Will had to keep him on side. Within reason.

Therefore, Will forced back the – strangely, neither unsettling nor unfamiliar – urge to simply reach for Hannibal and surrender himself and instead rose to follow the other man to his kitchen.

Other _Wendigo_.

Will stumbled on the stairs at this thought and instinctively reached out to Hannibal to steady himself. It felt terrifyingly natural.

_You could just go with it. Aren't you stepped in blood too far already?_

Will ignored the thought, along with the space where he'd killed Alana. He needed answers first and would attend to his guilt later.

_You've already chosen. You're just looking for an excuse._

Will collapsed into a seat in Hannibal's kitchen and pressed his hands against his eyes, willing his brain to give him peace. He felt Hannibal kneel in front of him and draw his hands away.

“You are blameless in this, Will. Do not punish yourself for my decisions.”

Will snarled at him but didn't break Hannibal’s grip. “I was a… suitable candidate,” he spat. “You just took raw material and shaped it. Gave rein to my true nature and what it wanted…” He glanced towards the foyer and wrenched his hands back. “I became what you wanted only because it was already in me to want.”

Hannibal smiled. “For the first time you are able to be honest with yourself. It will make you stronger in the end.”

“Don't.” Will’s voice was cold. “Don't praise me. I didn't make a breakthrough in therapy. I became a monster.”

Hannibal rose to his feet, apparently to allow Will some space and moved to start the coffee. “You are still you, Will. I would have done nothing to change that. I far prefer the world with you in it.”

Will scoffed, irritated to note that he was affected by the sincerity in Hannibal's voice. “Fine. Not a monster. What, then?”

“You wish for a mythology lesson?”

“Is it mythology if it's real?”

“A history lesson, then. I believe we have already covered biology.” Will grimaced. “You are unhappy with the circumstances of our bonding?”

Will stared at him, lost for an answer. He would like to take the excuse being offered, to say that he had been out of his mind on weird science and weirder lust. Instead he found that, while he was still contemplating the necessity of killing both himself and Hannibal, he didn't want to hurt the man – _his mate_ – in _this_ way. “I'm unhappy with always being three thousand steps behind you. I can't know how I feel about _this_ ,” he ran a hand along the bite mark on his neck, “until I understand what it means.”

“All right,” Hannibal spread his hands in a gesture of openness, “what would you like to know?”

Will tried to organise his questions in order of significance but one of his more intimate wonderings seemed determined to jump the queue: “Did you know I’d want to fuck you?”

Hannibal actually laughed, equal parts shocked and delighted. “Only hoped, dear Will. The transformation process, like you, is unpredictable.”

“Relying on that charmed Lecter tendency to get exactly what you want. And if I hadn't been interested?”

“I would still have wanted your companionship, your presence by my side. And would have contented myself with pining in silence. Given your previous lack of interest in me in this respect, it is an experience I have grown used to.”

Will cast his eyes aside, grateful that Hannibal's coffee machine chose that moment to demand attention. Will was well aware that the game he had been playing in order to lure Hannibal could easily be seen as seduction. And with that recognition had come the realisation that he felt an interest beyond just the role he was playing. He had imagined, in some detail, what it might be like to let Hannibal kiss him. To kiss him back. All the times he had let the man stand too close, allowed their gazes to lock, watched his hands too closely, Will had experienced the sensation of standing at the lip of a great abyss, into which he suspected it would be neither difficult nor unpleasant to fall.

_Always figured if anyone could knock me a few notches along the sexuality spectrum, it'd be you, you cannibalistic piece of shit. You just had to go one better and rocket me straight to “I need you and only you inside me forever.” Overachiever._

Not that Will was going to let Hannibal know any of that. Possibly ever. Instead, he changed tack.

“So, couldn't help but notice I look like me again.”

“You always look like you, Will, and are quite beautiful in both forms, I must say.”

“Stop that,” Will commanded, while telling his body in no uncertain terms that if it started blushing he would take drastic action. “You are cut off from complimenting me for the foreseeable future. I take it, then, I can change between the two, like you do?”

“In time.” Hannibal slid a mug towards Will, who accepted it with something approaching gratitude. “You will learn to control it, though in the early stages you may find yourself changing unbidden in times of great stress or danger.”

“Oh, fantastic. I never have to deal with either of those on a practically daily basis.” Will placed his forehead against the cool of Hannibal's counter, trying not to wish it was the warmth of Hannibal's chest, and groaned.

“Mmm,” Hannibal hummed in agreement. “It may be time to revisit our discussion regarding your ongoing work for Uncle Jack.”

“Right, I could quit, move in here and become your stay-at-home-mate.”

“You could, of course, continue teaching. Though the suggestion of your moving in does have merit.”

“You’re a serial killer who ate so much human flesh he turned into a monster, Hannibal! Do you really believe domestic harmony’s on the horizon?”

_Do you really believe you have a better option?_

_I'm so not getting rid of the dogs._

Something twitched at the back of Will’s mind, bringing his thoughts back on course. “Wait. Was this your choice? Did you do it to yourself or was it done to you?” Will wondered if the latter would make forgiveness easier.

“Not all Wendigos are made, Will. Nothing happened to me, I am as I was born. I am the youngest pure Wendigo in existence, so far as I know, at eighty-one years of age. My sister was younger but…”

Will choked on his coffee. “Eighty-one? You're eighty-one? You… Hannibal, that was not an eighty-one year old body I was wrapped around the last three days.”

If Hannibal smirked at that, Will was willing to forgive it in these circumstances. “Not an eighty-one year old _human_ body, I grant you. You may wish to leave your coffee aside for a moment, Will, while I tell you this.”

“Shit, we’re immortal, aren't we?”

“Occasionally, dearest, your intuition is something of a thunder-stealer.”

“Immortal. As in, can't die, won't age?”

“Functionally immortal, at any rate. We can be killed, though it is extremely difficult. And we can change our appearance to any age we might wish.”

Will tried not to linger too long on the image of a twenty-five year old Hannibal.

 _No wonder you've never been caught._ “So,” he said, feeling his heart rise a little, “it's not a choice, what you do?”

Hannibal looked at him sharply. “It would be nice to believe that, would it not, Will? Do not fool yourself. Our kind can survive on relatively small amounts of human flesh. I kill because I want to, because I believe those I kill serve a better purpose in death, and I kill far, far more than is necessary for my survival.”

“And you make cannibals of your friends for your own amusement.”

“Indeed. I am not a good man, Will, Wendigo or not. Do not think you can make me so.”

“Though, I suppose, of the two of us, you're not actually the cannibal.” Will was trying for sarcasm but the jibe came out flat.

“Nor you, now,” Hannibal added, softly.

“Have you been feeding me Alana?” Will couldn't stop the question or the tremble in his voice. He knew he'd eaten human throughout his heat, far gone enough even to allow Hannibal to feed him by hand, between kisses.

Hannibal turned a blank expression on him. “How would that make you feel?”

Will wasn't sure if it was the question or the return of Hannibal's mask that caused him to rush his mate, crushing him against the wall with a forearm pressed against his windpipe. He found he couldn't speak, his words strangled by intense growling as he stared into Hannibal's eyes. Then, suddenly, “Oh.”

Hannibal's mask, so convincingly resurrected, was gone again already and Will read the truth in his dimming eyes. He released the pressure but not his grip.

“You haven't, have you?” Will asked, not needing the answer. “You… you let me kill her, because there was no other way but you weren't happy about it. You really would have spared her.”

Through his gasps, Hannibal gave Will a weakened smile. “I hold few humans in high regard. I would have preferred to avoid one of those I admired being undone by the only one I held dear.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “But you let it happen.”

“There was no other way to protect you. Between Alana's continued existence and yours…” he tailed off, allowing Will's intuition to fill in the blank.

“She was dead, though. _Is_ dead. What difference would eating her make?” Will felt his stomach roil at the prospect.

“Neither you nor I believe that cannibalising someone is to ‘honour every part.’ I eat the lowly, the undeserving, the rude. Alana was none of those things. Moreover, while I believe you can come to forgive a necessary evil, I neither wanted nor needed to know if you could forgive such blatant cruelty against an innocent.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Will’s eyes were wide, his tone manic as he let go of Hannibal and spun away. “Again, Hannibal, you're a serial killer who eats his victims, a supposedly mythical creature into the bargain and you forced the same state on me so you could fuck me into staying with you forever!”

“That is admirably succinct.”

Will’s screamed in frustration. “What the hell makes you think I can forgive _any_ of that?”

“Forgiveness, like love, is not a choice. It is a state that comes upon us, without our conscious say-so.”

Will turned, eyes narrowed. “You don't love me, Hannibal, you can't. You just want to possess me.”

“You think so?” Hannibal's control on his anger finally slipped the smallest bit. “I have been intrigued by you since our first meeting. Felt you to be a necessity in my life since I thought another had taken you from me. I do not know when I fell in love with you, only that I have and you will not tell me otherwise. You will not take that from me as you would my life or my freedom.”

“Where is Alana's body, Hannibal?”

“It is safe. I will do with it as you wish. She was your kill.”

“Jesus. Fuck.” Will shook his head in horror. “I can't deal with this. I have to go.” He bolted from the kitchen towards the front door.

“Will!” Hannibal was following behind.

“Not stopping, Hannibal.”

“No, only… phone me when you are home.”

Will faced him, incredulous, “Why, will you worry?”

“I believe I will.” Nothing but genuine concern. Nothing Will could use to further fuel his fury.

“Fine. I'll call, you won't speak. Goodbye, Hannibal.” He slammed the door behind him, sure that, through the wood, he heard a faint, miserable _Goodbye, Will_ in response.

***

Much later, Will chose a text to convey his return home to Hannibal.

_At home not safe in trouble. You'll come?_

Will knew he'd sealed his fate when the response came seconds later.

_Always._


	4. Ignition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will goes home but doesn't find the peace he's looking for.

Will knew Hannibal was close even before he heard the Bentley’s engine, or saw its headlights from his seat on the porch. Like the ceasing of a noise he hadn't realised had been irritating him, Will felt the release of some previously unnoticed tension as the distance keeping him from his mate reduced.

_Another thing he wasn't lying about. I could almost get used to this._

Worse, when Hannibal left his car, the expression of worry and relief that was etched across his face caused the icy greeting that Will had been practicing to die on his lips. Instead, he rose from his chair to meet Hannibal and allowed himself to be caught in a crushing embrace.

After a moment, during which Will had to hold back a contented sigh, he felt he had to make something clear. “This is just down to biology, you know. I haven't forgiven anything,” he pointed out, trying to keep some edge to his voice.

“I know,” Hannibal's voice was muffled by Will’s hair, still slightly damp from the shower. “In this moment, I do not care. I suspect my need to hold you is greater even than your need to be held.”

_Maybe I've changed him as much as he's changed me._ The thought, irritatingly, served to lift more of Will’s anger towards Hannibal than he considered fair. Or sane.

“Shut up.” With not inconsiderable reluctance, Will extricated himself from Hannibal and led him inside. Upon entry, Hannibal eyed the near-empty bottle of whisky on the kitchen counter and turned to Will to take proper stock of his condition. Will was reasonably certain he looked as far from anyone's ideal mate as could be and briefly considered testing out his Wendigo form to see if it pulled off half-drunk and traumatised any better. He considered himself fortunate to have managed one change and reverse this afternoon, though, and decided not to risk it. Seemingly sensing the need for caution, Hannibal gently manoeuvred Will towards the couch and took a seat, nearby but not touching.

“Tell me what happened, Will,” he requested softly.

Will took a deep breath. “Ok, just…” he looked pained, “try not to enjoy this.”

***

After leaving Hannibal's home, Will had driven around for hours, not wanting to go back to an empty house. At some point during one of the more lucid moments of his heat, Hannibal had assured him that he had arranged for some high-priced kennel service to collect and house Will's dogs for a week, citing a family emergency.

_Not entirely untrue. I should probably change my next of kin details. Now that I_ have _some next of kin details._

His new mate had also, apparently, found time to call in crazy to Jack. Not that he had put it that way – apparently Jack had been informed that Will was _emotionally overwrought and severely run down_ , requiring a full week off to recuperate. Will doubted this would have any actual effect on Jack, particularly coming from Hannibal, but given that he hadn't simply shown up at the doctor’s house to demand that his profiler be brought forth, Will assumed no creative killings had taken place that weekend.

He knew at least one regular purveyor of such scenes had been otherwise occupied.

However that also meant that no one had yet missed Alana, the other reason Will wanted to avoid being contactable. It wasn't inconceivable that she wouldn't be missed over a weekend – Alana had sometimes carved out time alone in response to the demands of her job and she had been spending much of her free time with Hannibal lately.

Horribly, Will felt a flash of jealousy at the thought.

However, it was now Monday afternoon and she would certainly have been missed by colleagues, students or patients. A lot of people depended on Alana Bloom; they were going to want to find her. Under other circumstances, Will would have been high up on that list. Jack was going to want him on this and Will had no idea how he would handle it.

_Apparently not by turning yourself in._

Will had strongly considered it. Except, it wouldn't just be back to the BSHCI this time – if Hannibal was telling the truth (and he seemed to have chosen now to provide full and frank disclosure) Will would have no control over his form. Best case scenario: Wendigo Will is shot dead by terrified policemen and studied by shadowy government agents. Not likely, given that he was now, apparently, _extremely difficult_ to kill. Worst case scenario: Wendigo Will is arrested, transforms due to the stress of captivity, gets tranquillised, and is imprisoned and studied by shadowy government agents. Forever.

To a man who had spent his life escaping examination by psychiatrists – with one notable exception – let alone Mulder and Scully types, this was not an acceptable situation. He had to survive, if only to avoid discovery. In the most twisted, sickening way, Will realised, Hannibal had actually given him something to live for.

Eventually, as the light began to draw out of the sky, Will accepted that he would have to make his way home. If for no other reason than to prevent Hannibal from tracking him down there. Will suspected it was going to be difficult to think with Hannibal anywhere near him at the moment and he desperately needed to think.

Even if those thoughts were, admittedly, almost entirely about Hannibal.

Hannibal, who had wanted Will so badly he’d changed him into an immortal, heretofore mythological creature. Hannibal, who looked at Will the way some people looked at cathedrals or constellations, and had kissed him with the promise of honest-to-god eternal devotion. Hannibal, who could potentially live forever and wanted to spend that life with Will, a man who had often had trouble getting people to spend the duration of an evening with him.

Except, this was also Hannibal, otherwise known as the Chesapeake Ripper. He had killed dozens of people – undoubtedly more, unofficially – for the crime of being rude. He had made cannibals of his friends and a monster out of Will for some twisted notion of love. He was capable of horrifying brutality, vicious acts of cruelty and he lied the way most people drew breath.

Except apparently, now, to Will.

Will wanted to be with Hannibal. There was a good chance that had been true before his change and it was nothing less than certain now. Despite Beverly. Despite Abigail. He had no idea what that meant. No idea what it said about him, or how they would fit themselves together. If they could ever have anything but endless running from pursuit by the likes of Jack. He was beginning to have the sneaking feeling that he could live with it, though.

And whatever Hannibal said, the fact of his birth did change some things. Will knew this might be rationalising the unforgivable but… Hannibal was not human. Had not been brought up with the same morality, the same laws. He _needed_ to eat human flesh, at least some, in order to survive. That he had taken lives with no need to do so was, absolutely, unacceptable. Except Will, who _was_ born human and had believed himself equipped with a functioning moral code, had also taken lives and had not lied when he said he'd enjoyed it. And with every passing moment, he felt the urge to survive grow stronger within him, so who was he to deny Hannibal the same?

_So, that's it: can't surrender, can't off yourself, may as well be happy?_

To choose happiness, if that's what Hannibal offered, seemed a strange notion to Will. He'd been used to putting others before himself: his father, Jack, innumerable dead bodies. Would it be so bad to choose something for himself, for once?

_Maybe I should just run._

As this last thought crossed his mind, Will found himself pulling up to his house, no nearer a decision than he had been hours ago, before he started driving. However, what greeted him forced the argument to the back of his mind.

Freddie Lounds was there.

At least, Freddie Lounds’ car was there, its owner nowhere to be seen.

Will felt his mind light with anger. With opportunity. With purpose.

He found no sign of her in the house, doors still locked, contents in place.

He'd known she wouldn't be there, in any case. The woman could sniff out a story like Hannibal could detect a fever and neither ability had ever done Will any good. There was one place that would give her the scoop she wanted and Will smiled as the shed’s jimmied locks confirmed it.

He slid inside, careful to keep quiet, and closed the door behind him, taking in the sight of Freddie clutching Randall Tier’s jawbone as her eyes flashed towards him. Some distant part of him suggested he should be concerned about that, especially when she drew her gun, but the rest of him, the Will Graham that had been playing Hannibal Lecter at his own game for weeks, scoffed at the inferiority of this lesser predator. Less than Hannibal, less than Will, less than nothing in a few moments. He stalked towards her, trying to feel his newfound power without allowing it to shift his form, amused by her sudden and uncharacteristic lack of curiosity. For once, he wanted to tell her everything; just once, a reward for her undying tenacity.

Still moving towards her, Will allowed his words to pull the fear from her core, realising with delight that he could smell it on her. “I can't let you go, Freddie. Not without hearing what I have to say.” He let his tone go soft, a mockery of comfort twisted by the cruel smile on his face. “I know you're scared. Only have to be scared just a little bit longer.” Then, with arm raised, “Give me the gun.”

She didn't. He knew she wouldn't, could smell the defiance mixed in with the fear. If she had been a better shot, he would have taken the bullet and delighted in the shock on her face. Unfortunately, fear made her miss, so instead Will lowered his head and charged, untouched by more desperate shooting, easily disarming her and flinging the gun away. It was likely empty by now anyway, and Will had no intention of using a machine to take Freddie's life from her.

Of course, Freddie had no intention of giving up her life easily. She struggled, elbows flying, teeth bared. Will was impressed.

_Perhaps I could keep her as a pet._

Had he still been plain old Will Graham, she might have got away. Might have made it to the door, might have incapacitated him with the pepper spray he later found in her bag. But Hannibal had improved on that design.

When he transformed this time, Will found it did not hurt.

Not him.

***

“I… she… there's not much left of her. I… couldn't stop. There's… it's such a mess.”

Hannibal heard all of this, as requested, in placid silence. Will spoke it all in a low tone, rushed, desperate to get it out. When he finished, he found he was panting slightly, and unable to raise his eyes to Hannibal's own. He wanted little more than the other man’s arms around him and would never ask him for it. Instead, he held still as Hannibal moved from his seat to kneel in front of him.

A hand pushed through his curls and settled against his cheek. “I am sorry, Will. I did not expect to be. But, perhaps this was too much for me to put you through.”

Will realised, with a rush, that the anger he felt at these words was not for Hannibal's having changed him. It was because his mate did not understand. He tried to find the words, finally raising a clear gaze to the man prostrate before him.

“Freddie was not something you put me through. Freddie was a well-struck match, finally igniting. Hannibal… I wanted…” Will fisted his hands in Hannibal's coat and drew their foreheads together. “I wanted to drink the blood from Hobbs’ bullet wounds. I wanted to crack Randall Tier’s bones and suck the marrow from them. When I sent Matthew to kill you, I imagined him serving me your heart in my cell and when he failed, I wanted to feed his every last atom to you, raw.” Hannibal shuddered at this, and Will knew it was nothing but lust. “I wanted to kill Alana, to drain her heart, just so I could step further towards you. This has _always_ been in me. You weren't the only one who saw but you were the _only one_ to want it.”

“So,” Hannibal murmured, “not _just biology_ , then?”

“No,” Will agreed, brushing a kiss between them. “Although, I think I require further lessons after all. Given that, before I stormed out of your place, we didn't cover the fact that I now…” Will trailed off.

“That, in your Wendigo form you now have a vagina, in addition to the expected genitals?” Hannibal concluded, tone maddeningly clinical.

“Yes,” Will agreed, “that. Because, you know, I noticed you called me your _mate_.”

“Mmm.”

“And I know you said I wasn't the girl.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Except, certain parts seem to differ on that.”

“Ask the question you want to ask, Will.”

“Can I get pregnant?” Will considered the calm tone in which he asked this to be a great personal triumph.

Hannibal reached out to tuck a stray curl behind Will’s ear. Soft, almost reverent, he answered, “Yes.” And added, “How does that make you feel?” with utter sincerity, this time.

Will looked at his mate and decided to go for honesty. “Terrified.”

Hannibal huffed a tiny laugh and murmured, “Me too.”

Will placed a hand on his stomach. “I could carry your child?” His voice sounded tiny.

“Our child.”

“And it would be… like us?”

“Yes.”

“What if it's like me in other ways? What if it's not… stable? How would it cope?”

“With a family who loves and cherishes it.”

“A family? Do you want that, a family?”

“Before I met you? No. What could I have offered a child?”

“And now?”

“It has been growing in my mind since I met you. The urge to give you a child has greatly occupied me.”

Will pulled away then, and wrapped his arms around himself. “That didn't end well, before.”

“No.” A flicker. Guilt? That wasn't what Will read. It looked more like hesitation but was gone too soon and Will was too exhausted to chase it. “Do you think you can live with it?”

Will took one of Hannibal's hands and traced his knuckles. “I'm finding I can live with most things.” He raised the hand to his lips and grazed the knuckles against them softly. “More than I thought possible.” The relief that flooded Hannibal then was far easier to read. “Especially since,” the doctor froze, “if it happens again, I'll gut you myself.”

He felt Hannibal relax, heard the smile in his voice as he murmured, “Remarkable boy.”

“Before we go much further, though, I have a confession. Two, actually, but we’ll start with this one.”

“Please, tell me Will.”

“I slept with Margot Verger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for being a horribly slow writer. In all honesty, my priorities are beta-ing/reading first and writing very much second. So, to anyone who's still keeping up, thank you so so much for your patience and I'll try to make it worth your while.
> 
> As ever, kudos are lovely, comments are life.


	5. Balance

Hannibal was feeling odd. To put it more precisely, Hannibal was feeling, which was odd.

His emotions were usually carefully-controlled things, held tight in the iron grip of his self-discipline. Yet, since meeting Will Graham, and even more so, since _bonding_ with Will Graham, that discipline seemed to be failing. All day, since Will had left his house, he had been beset by a roiling torment of worry, an anxious clawing at his stomach urging him to _protect, care, comfort_.

Now, though, he had arrived back at something familiar. Now, he felt nothing but rage.

Given that he knew full well that Margot had used Will as an unwitting sperm donor, this reaction was more than a little irrational. Given that he had already set up the means to subtly inform her brother of any success in her plan, it was downright foolish. But, more than that, Margot Verger was one of the few humans in whom Hannibal saw anything worthy. His careful encouragement of her murderous impulses towards Mason had been enjoyable, the occasional sight of the determined survivor lurking beneath her soft, damaged shell quite enchanting. Margot Verger was not scheduled to die, by his or any other hand.

Still, his fury would not be dismissed, or diminished.

He wanted to slice a line the length of her back and pull her wretched spine from her traitorous body in one clean motion. He wanted to hold her down and slowly remove each blood-slick organ as her pretty mouth begged for mercy. He wanted to watch her wide eyes, so beautiful, strain and redden and burst from their sockets as he choked her.

Hannibal pondered Will's becoming, and what he himself had become in turn.

And then he took a breath, placed his fury aside and did as a good mate should do.

“I know. Margot told me.”

“Oh.” Will looked a little shocked, a little relieved. “Are you angry?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to kill anybody?”

Hannibal considered. “No. Not at the moment.”

“Are you going to leave?”

Hannibal frowned. “Certainly not. That would be both hypocritical and unforgivably stupid.”

“Yes. Good.”

“You are aware, I suppose, that you do not fit the profile of her usual bedmate?”

“In that I'm not a woman? I brought it up. Didn't seem to matter.”

“Did it occur that she might have wanted to bed you for reasons other than sexual gratification?”

Will sat back, an exasperated huff escaping from him. “I honestly didn't give much thought to her motivations. She was warmer than my drink. She was within easy reach.”

“Were those your only reasons?”

Will held him with a steady look. “You were fucking Alana. Alana was fucking you. I think I just wanted something that had nothing to do with either of you. And Margot offered. Seemed like the thing to do, at the time.”

The ache in Will's voice reflected itself in Hannibal’s chest.

“A woman's touch.”

“A human touch. The irony.”

Hannibal very deliberately reached out to curl just his little finger around Will’s. “Though my touch may not qualify as such, it is yours whenever you wish for it.”

There was a pause as Will absorbed this.

“Even if Margot is pregnant?”

“Even if.” Hannibal was surprised at the ease with which the words came, and the depth of the truth behind them. “So it did occur to you.”

“After. If she just wanted to get laid, she wouldn't have come to me. There's only one reason she'd seek out the fragile, lonely weirdo she once met at her shrink’s office.”

“You do underestimate your surpassing beauty, William.”

“I may be pretty, Hannibal, but I'm still not Margot’s type.”

“Will you want it?”

“The child, or your touch?”

“Both. Either.”

“Can it be both?”

“I do not know. I suspect not.”

“Alana's dead. Freddie Lounds is dead. Jack will figure us out. Hard to parent while you're on the run.”

“Yes. But I would take the blame if you wished to stay.”

“I believe you believe that,” Will shook his head and breathed a laugh, “but you say it knowing that neither of us would survive the separation. I closed our loop,” he ran a finger along the bite mark still livid on Hannibal's shoulder, “and cut off my escape routes. Don't give me empty platitudes, I don't need them.” He had not removed his finger from Hannibal’s grip and, instead, shifted his knee to bump against his mate’s. “I think I would have two duties as a father: to remove Mason Verger from my child’s world; and then to remove myself from his or her life. I was never meant to be part of it anyway, that wasn't in Margot’s design. And it'll be human; it wouldn't… wouldn’t be right. Besides,” he leaned in and touched his forehead to Hannibal's, “I have a family of my own to build.”

“Yes. Good.” The surge of relief that washed over Hannibal finally allowed him to fully redirect his possessive rage into the more productive action of kissing Will, who easily returned the gesture, to Hannibal's joy.

They stayed like that, for a few minutes, the sense of being reunited both physically and mentally too pleasing to relinquish to practicality. At length, though, Hannibal felt assured enough of Will’s continued presence to pull back and ask the necessary question.

“What now, my love?”

“What I _want_ is to figure out what I should call you, since Doctor Lecter’s just not gonna cut it any more and I don't think either of us are the _sweetie_ type.”

Hannibal made no attempt to curb his smirk at that.

“But what we _need_ ,” Will continued, “is a plan. And I'm guessing at least two of your trains of thought have been working on that.”

“Remarkably impressive on my part, given your current proximity.” Will shifted his hips against Hannibal, as if to test his resolve. Gripping Will’s sides in a silent plea for him to settle, Hannibal stated, “As I see it, Will, we have two options. One: we concoct alibis to prove our innocence in these two murders, weather the storm of investigation that will surely follow and then, when enough time has passed, slip quietly from the country citing the traumatic memories associated with this place as the cause. Or two: we dispose of Freddie Lounds’ body in the manner most befitting her life – loudly, publicly and without subtlety – incapacitate or, depending on Margot's wishes, kill Mason Verger like the pig he is, cut our losses, along with several years from our appearance, and flee to a country with no extradition policy. I suggest France.”

Will, in his turn, made no attempt to curb the vicious smile that curled his lips. “I feel now may be the right time for my second confession.”

“Oh?”

“Jack knows everything. Up until Alana, at least. He and I were luring you.”

“Mmm, quite effectively, it must be said. You do make quite tantalising bait, my love.”

Will grinned, pulled Hannibal up onto the sofa and crawled into his lap. “I knew you knew. From the start?”

“I suspected as much. I merely hoped you were not so in thrall to Jack as he believed.”

“Damn, hate to be predictable.”

“Oh no, my Will, never that.”

Will licked a stripe along Hannibal’s neck and looked directly at him. “Damn straight.”

“If, as it would appear, we have decided on option two, then, I must ask: what is to be done with uncle Jack?”

Will pulled back and tipped his head to the side in a gesture Hannibal gleefully recognised as one of his own. “Today I learned what it is to feel separated from the person who makes you whole,” Will told him. Hannibal clutched their hands together and squeezed in reassurance. “And I had the luxury of picking up the phone and knowing you would be here when I needed you. Soon, Jack’s going to feel that too, with no means of reconnection. Let him have however long he has with Bella. And then, when he comes for us, we'll put an end to him.”

“Merciful twice over, my love?”

“When mercy is driven by pragmatism, I'm not certain it's worthy of the name. I won't kill Jack to ease his pain. I'll kill him to prolong our lives.”

“A noble reason.”

“A selfish one. There's nothing noble in what I am, Hannibal and I find that I don't need there to be.” He sighed, the ghost of a laugh in it. “I should be freaking out. I'm not human. I can get pregnant. May already have impregnated Margot. And I'm basically married. _To you_. Why am I not having a nervous breakdown?”

“Do you feel it would help?”

Will gave him a disapproving look. “That's not really how nervous breakdowns work. _Doctor_.” Off Hannibal's own deadpan expression, he added, “No. I don't think it would help.”

“Then stop questioning yourself. You are allowed to have the things you want.”

“Some have happiness thrust upon them?”

“Would you ever have taken it for yourself?”

Will looked straight at him, anger flaring in his eyes, and Hannibal felt a jolt of worry he had gone too far. _Another unprecedented experience._ He was becoming ever more certain that life with Will would never be boring. He watched the anger flicker and fade into something like resignation, something like acceptance.

“Doesn't matter, does it? It is what it is. And it _is_ what I want, so why complain?”

“I fear you will resent me in years to come.”

“It's possible.” Will still held him pinned with his gaze. “So it'll be your job to make resentment unnecessary. Starting with making sure our exit strategy is effective.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of Hannibal's nose and quirked an eyebrow. “Any ideas?”

“Mmm. One or two. How would you feel about being bait once more?”

A smirk: a challenge. “How would _you_ feel about it?”

“I am suffused with jealous rage at the very thought. Not to mention the immense concern I have for your well-being.”

“That's new.”

“I assure you, my love, it is not.”

“Encephalitis, Hannibal.”

He hummed in reluctant agreement. “A fair point, well made. It does not negate the sincerity of my concern now.”

“No. I'm beginning to realise that. Is it just the bond?”

“The bond is built on my love for you. It has simply served to make the extent of those feelings clearer to me. Though I believe the degree of overprotectiveness I am currently experiencing will fade a little, over time.”

“Given what we're about to do, I find myself oddly pleased by the idea of your overprotecting me.”

_Odd_ , thought Hannibal. _Yes, that is just the word. Odd, but certainly not unwelcome._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really struggled with this chapter. I thought they were done with the talking but, you know these two, they had more to say. I'm not really sure it turned out all that well but I'm posting cos I don't have any better ideas! Talk to me in the comments - let me know what you think, I need feedback! Seriously, I'm begging, I have no shame!


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